Stick in the Mud
by lunalooo
Summary: Arthur is having a bad day. Slight Eames/Arthur.


Author's Note: Thanks to my roommate, who talked about this fic with me and gave me some ideas at 2 a.m. :D)

* * *

Arthur was having a bad day. First of all, his clock had decided to betray him by neglecting to wake him up at the correct time in the morning. Arthur hated betrayal. And lateness. And not being able to do his work in a timely manner. Okay, maybe getting ready in the morning wasn't work, but it was getting prepared for work. Arthur usually put on his work face the minute his eyes opened, and then spent the morning making himself presentable. Weekends were different. But this wasn't the weekend, was it.

Arthur launched himself out of bed the second he realized what time it was. He rushed through his shower, his breakfast- but he took his time brushing his teeth, styling his hair, and putting on the clothes he had chosen the night before. However, he was running late, so he had no choice but to rush that too.

"Fucking clock," he muttered on his way out the door.

Second of all, he was almost run over by a bicyclist on the walk to the warehouse. Arthur hated people who didn't pay attention to what they were doing.

"Asshole," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Almost immediately after, a bird decided to take a dump on one of his favorite shirts.

"Fuck!" he couldn't help but yell out. People walking down the street stared and tried not to giggle. Arthur hated losing his cool in front of others. Oh well, nothing he could do about that now. _Focus on fixing yourself up._ He steered himself into a random building to find a restroom. As he stared at his shirt in the mirror, he sighed deeply, trying to get a hold on his rising temper. He cleaned off the disgustingness well enough. When he stared at himself in the mirror again, he felt calmer. This morning wasn't so bad. No, really.

_Okay, stop talking to yourself._

His eyes slid down to the spot on his shirt again. It was bad.

Arthur sighed again angrily, leaning onto the sink, trying to think. Then his head snapped up slightly- light bulb.

He had an extra jacket at the warehouse. That would work in at least covering up the mess on his shirt. Good. This was good.

He was fully convinced of this until he arrived at the warehouse. There waiting for him was something else he hated.

_Eames_.

Well he didn't actually hate Eames. But on bad days such as this, he did. He quickly slipped through the room, ignoring Eames' greeting, and headed to his stock of emergency clothes. He found a jacket he liked, and luckily it matched with everything else. As he was putting it on, Eames came up behind him.

"Good morning, Arthur! You were late this morning," he said cheerfully.

"I'm not in the mood, Mr. Eames."

Eames looked at him, puzzled. "For what?"

"For you," Arthur pushed past him, now completely focused on his job and what he had to do that day. Eames lagged behind, staring at the locker that Arthur used to store his things.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," he said, with a devilish grin on his face.

* * *

Arthur was trying extremely hard not to grab that thing out of Eames's hand. He couldn't help but glare at it and the man, as they all sat in a circle, discussing how they were going to perform inception on one Robert Fisher. Arthur clenched his teeth, listening to what was being discussed but also wondering _why the hell Eames was playing with his totem like that in public_

.

Eames would comment on how inappropriate that all sounded, but it flew over Arthur's head. He was being perfectly serious. His eyes flickered as Eames, again, fiddled with his poker chip in his left hand. He was doing little finger tricks with it. Out in the open. Exposed. What if someone figured out the trick to it?

"Try this..." Eames said, swinging slightly back and forth in his chair. He was always lounging. He made everything look so easy. Arthur hated that. Why was it so easy for him? "My father accepts that I want to create something for myself, not follow in his footsteps."

"That might work," Cobb said.

And he hated it even more when Eames still got his work done, efficiently.

"Might?" he said angrily. "We're going to have to do better than might."

Eames smiled gleefully and turned his chair toward him. "Thank you for your contribution, Arthur."

"Forgive me for wanting a little specificity," he bit back.

"Specif?"

Arthur stared at him. "Specificity!"

Honestly, how did Eames always come up with the clever ideas and plots and get so much work done? Sometimes he just didn't understand it. It was days- and moments- like these when Arthur chose to forget all of those times Eames honest;y impressed him. He forgot his reluctant admiration of him, which he held deep down inside him and only let show every once in a while.

Dom continued. "Inception's not about specificity. When we get inside Fischer's head, we're going to have to work with what we find."

Arthur glared down at the floor. Dammit. He could feel Eames' 'I was right' look on him.

Asshole.

* * *

"Time to take a break," Eames said, lifting himself out of his chair. "Shall we, Arthur?"

Arthur was leaning back in his chair, staring at his little notebook. He looked up, surprised. "Shall we what?"

"Take a break."

"With you?"

"Yes, Arthur, with me," Eames said, getting exasperated. Even Arthur in a bad mood, which Eames enjoyed immensely, grated on his nerves after a while. He didn't show it, however. He put on his gleeful smile and raised his eyebrows at Arthur.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but stood up and followed Eames outside.

"I was on a roll, you know," Arthur said when they got out into the sunlight. "You should have left me to work."

"You never work during your breaks," Eames said, surprising Arthur. "You're always with Ariadne."

Eames took a pack of cigarettes and took out a cig for himself. He placed it in his mouth and then fished out a lighter.

"And this is what you do on your breaks?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow as Eames offered the cigarette box to Arthur.

"Take one, Love. You need to relax today."

"I'm working, there's no time for relaxation," Arthur said grumpily.

"Bloody Hell, Arthur," Eames took a cigarette out of the box and placed it in Arthur's mouth. "You need to unwind."

Arthur froze, slightly mesmerized as Eames lit the cigarette for him.

Eames watched him, a small smirk on his face. He blew out a puff of smoke first. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. Finally, he took a drag, took the cigarette out between two fingers, and blew out.

"Good boy," Eames said, looking away.

They stood in silence, smoking away, for a few minutes. Eames sometimes glanced at Arthur, and Arthur pretended not to notice. His hand moved to his pocket. Arthur narrowed his eyes again as he noticed that he was taking his poker chip out of his pocket and fiddling with it again.

"Why do you do that?" Arthur couldn't help asking.

"Do what?" Eames asked, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. Maybe the fiddling was a habit? Eames seemed to have a lot of habits. Smoking. Taking up too much room with his legs and feet. Smoking. Teasing Arthur.

"Displaying your totem like that," Arthur said, nodding at the poker chip. "Those are supposed to be private, you know."

Eames smiled down at the chip, flipping it over his knuckles. Soon it disappears. Arthur isn't particularly surprised by this. Trickster.

"I tend to fiddle with it when I'm thinking. Using my imagination," he looks at Arthur slyly. The chip appears again.

Arthur's face fell slightly as a thought occurred to him. "You're... you're not thinking... about me right now, are you?"

Eames smiled and blew out more smoke. "Let's just say smoking is a turn on for me."

He turns away, giving Arthur time to digest it. Arthur looked down at the cigarette in his hand curiously. He can't help but feel a little smug at the idea of turning Eames on. He always did. Smiling, he put the cigarette back to his lips. Eames turned back to him, smiling, and put his totem back in his pocket.

* * *

When the two reentered the room where the others were gathering from their breaks, Arthur seemed a little more cheerful. Yusef watched them curiously.

"Uh, what were you two up to?" he said. Arthur frowned as Yusuf and Eames giggled together.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked, feeling annoyance bubbling inside him again.

Yusuf shrugged innocently. "I don't know. You just seemed happier than you did this morning."

Arthur hated it when other people teased him about Eames. Especially when Ariadne was around. He glanced over at the chairs, and he saw her there, smiling at him. Great. Just great.

He sighed and took his seat without another word. Back to work.

* * *

At the end of the work day, Cobb went off to do one of his experiments, and Ariadne, being the curious person she was, went to investigate. Eames smiled at Arthur as they packed up.

"What?" Arthur asked, sounding annoyed. He was relieved that the day was over, and he was looking forward to going home. Couldn't Eames leave him alone?

Eames pulled a silver case out and opened it. "Shall we?" he gestured to the machine.

"With you?" Arthur asked for the second time that day.

"Yes, with me," Eames finally showed some frustration. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"But... why?" Arthur was so not in the mood for this.

"You've been a sour puss all fucking day, Arthur, it's driving me up the wall. Is it such a crime for me to want to help you unwind?"

Arthur looked at him suspiciously. "How is this going to help me?" He imagined getting tricked into some perverted dream by Eames. A nude beach maybe?

It was Eames's turn to look away and roll his eyes. He pulled out an IV and approached Arthur.

"You're so bitchy sometimes, Darling," Eames said as he rolled up Arthur's sleeve. "Don't get me wrong, I love it. But sometimes it can get a tad bloody annoying."

Arthur looked puzzled. He wasn't used to annoying Eames. It was a nice change.

Eames put in the IV, then looked Arthur in the eyes. "Make a dream yourself, Love."

* * *

Arthur soon found himself walking up the Penrose Steps. It certainly was relaxing- to Arthur anyway. He felt like he was climbing up and away from everything that had annoyed him that day. Well, all of them except one.

He heard a tutting noise from behind him.

"What is it now, Eames?" Arthur stopped walking and turned around. Sure enough, Eames was following him.

"No imagination," Eames said, smiling like the cocky bastard he was.

"I thought this was supposed to be a dream to help me unwind," Arthur said. "I get to do what I want. And I don't need a chaperone."

Eames chuckled. "Oh I know that. But I couldn't help but tag along."

They began walking up again. "So what do you want me to do, exactly?"

"I don't know, I'm asking you to use _your_ imagination, as if you've got any. Make the stairs lead somewhere."

"It's a loop, it doesn't go anywhere," Arthur said, sighing. "That's the _point_."

"What is it with point men and points?" Eames wondered aloud. "There doesn't always have to be a point."

"Fine," Arthur grumbled. Besides, walking up a never ending staircase with Eames would without a doubt be more like a nightmare than a dream.

Soon they approached a door. Arthur opened it first, stepping out onto the roof of an extremely tall building. Far, very far, down, was a beautiful city landscape. It was dark, and the city was lit up, laid out in all directions.

Arthur walked over to the edge, staring with awe. "It's like staring down at the stars."

An odd cough came from Eames. "Uh, yes. Beautiful."

Arthur turned and noticed that Eames was standing in the dead center of the roof. "What are you doing over there?" he asked. "Come get a better view."

"Uh, no, I'm fine," Eames said, trying to hide nerves in his voice. Arthur leaned back, holding onto a railing behind him. Eames jerked awkwardly.

"Be careful, Arthur."

The gears were working in Arthur's brain. He looked at the railing, down to the city below, back to Eames. A smirk was forming. "Eames, are you afraid of heights?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Eames took out a cigarette and lit it.

Arthur smiled, for the first time that day. "You are, aren't you!"

He sat down on the edge and swung his arms over the railing.

"Arthur!" Eames said sharply.

"What?"

"Just..." Eames faltered. "Just be careful."

"I am being careful."

"I'm serious..." Eames wouldn't come any closer. This was fun, Arthur had to admit.

"Me too. If you want me to stop, you'll have to come get me."

He heard Eames muttering to himself, then heard a stomp on the floor. He must have threw out his cigarette. "Bloody Hell."

Arthur kept looking out at the city below as Eames carefully came closer. He stood behind him. "Okay, I'm here."

"No you're not."

Eames sighed. After a few moments of hesitation, he sat down beside him and swung his arms over the railing. And held on tight.

"It's only a dream," Arthur said.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Eames said quickly, trying to act as if nothing was wrong.

"So you're afraid of heights," Arthur said, nodding as if he understood. "I know a fault now."

"It's not really a fault, is it?" Eames said, looking over at him.

Arthur frowned and shrugged. "It's at least something that makes you tick."

Eames laughed. "Besides you, you mean?"

Arthur smirked. "Yeah. Besides me."

"You silly Stick in the Mudd."

They remained there, in silence, staring down at the stars. Enjoying one another's company for once. Or, more accurately despite what Arthur may say, for much more than once.

* * *

When they woke up, Arthur smirked over at Eames. "I've got to say, Mr. Eames, I'm surprised. I never would have expected _you_ to be the savior of my day."

Eames put his arms behind his head and smiled up at Arthur, who was preparing to leave. "Well then, I look forward to more of these bad days of yours, Darling."

Arthur looked at him sharply, but Eames had closed his eyes.

"Hey," Arthur said, making a last attempt at some kind of dignity. "Don't forget, it was finding out your little secret that made my day. Not you."

Eames flipped his poker chip in his hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Arthur stood there, staring at the damn smile on Eames's face. He knew there was no way he was going to convince Eames that he hadn't enjoyed the dream. _Dammit._

"Are you staying here all night?" Arthur changed the subject. Eames hadn't moved from his chair.

"No. You go on ahead, I'll be out in a bit," Eames said, still fiddling with his totem.

Arthur nodded and turned toward the door, trying very hard not to go back and knock that totem out of his hand and shove it back in his pocket. Eames would have loved that. Arthur smirked to himself as he left the room.


End file.
